Pretty
by ChocoTaco
Summary: Riku should have known, however, that Sora was one hell of an affectionate drunk. Pure fluff. RikuxSora. !Chapter 3!
1. Pretty

**A/N:** This one sort of wrote itself this morning. I like the idea of Drunk!Sora. 

This is the second RikuxSora oneshot of several I plan on writing based on lines from the song "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out To Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens.

_"All of my powers, day after day  
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed"_

Read on!

Fictionally yours,  
Kaci

_

* * *

_

Riku had known a fair share of drunks in his life. His uncle Dave was a happy drunk if there ever was one, joking and laughing and always a welcome fixture at family parties until, in a moment of intoxication, he had accidentally sat on the family pet. His father was an angry drunk. Violent and angry, and he remembered how he would flinch every time he saw him take down the bottle of whiskey from the high shelf above the refrigerator and how the boy's reflexes got honed from years of dodging backhands. His mother didn't get drunk very often, but when she did, she was a sad drunk. She would cling to her glass and anything or anyone in the general vicinity, weeping and asking them what had become of her life. When she sobered up, she would always tug at the loose threads of her dress as she apologized to the people she had victimized in her confusion.

Riku should have known, however, that Sora was one hell of an affectionate drunk.

It was just shy of midnight, and the silver-haired boy was still wondering how the hell they had managed to stumble across a tiny restaurant and bar in Hollow Bastion that was willing to serve alcoholic beverages to teenage boys as he adjusted Sora's arm over his shoulders. All he knew was that the smaller boy hadn't known that piña coladas contained alcohol, and he had been so enthralled by thetiny pink paper umbrella in the drink and the fact that it "tasted like home" that Riku hadn't had the heart to take the beverage away from him. However, one drink led to two, then four, and even though his sober friend had finally cut him off, Sora was now sufficiently drunk.

"Hey, Riku?" he drawled, swaggering at the side of his friend.

"Yeah?" Riku responded with a sigh, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, but he couldn't bring himself to be irritated because he loved the way Sora said his name so much.

"Thanks," the brunette said happily, burying his nose in the older boy's hair.

"For what?" he replied patiently, half-playing along and half-serious. The hand that belonged to the arm not slung over his shoulders was clasped loosely in his, and he couldn't remember when that happened.

"Y'know. Everything."

"Okay, Sora."

Pause.

"Hey, Riku?"

Sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Your hair smells nice," came the drunken slur from below his ear as Riku felt the tickle of warm breath against his cool skin. Before he had a chance to respond (but not before his body had a chance to react, a sharp sensation of heat from his head to his feet that matched his intake of breath.), Sora's feet somehow got tangled, or maybe one of his shoes caught on the cobblestone at an awkward angle, or perhaps his knees just buckled, but regardless, he was going down hard. Riku started, gasped, struggled to catch him, and he did, strong hands closing around the brunette's back just before he hit the ground. Sora laughed, so Riku did too.

"Hey, Riku?" he said once again. His mind was swimming, his vision was blurred, but he could still make out his friend leaning over him, opulent hair falling about his shoulders and face and transfixing eyes twinkling in the faint starlight, he could still feel the gentle hands against his back. He smiled, somewhat in awe.

"Yeah?" he answered, again with a sigh, but this one was of relief. He pulled his friend back into a standing position, steadying him with a hand on either shoulder.

"You're pretty."

Riku laughed again.

"And you, my friend," he retorted, throwing Sora's arm around his shoulders once more and continuing their trek to Merlin's place, "are very drunk."

Sora gave a little hum of pleasure. "Yeah," he admitted with a nod, "but you're still pretty."

The next thing Riku knew, the younger boy's lips were colliding sloppily with his defined cheekbone, and he was afraid of how much he enjoyed it. He looked down into those blue eyes and smiled, putting on a brave face.

"You're drunk," he repeated, as if to remind himself. It almost hurt him to admit it, because Sore would never be this way to him while sober… at least, he didn't _think_ so.

"Just a little."

"A _little_?" Cue arched eyebrow and incredulous glance. Sora snorted.

"Kay, a lot. But I'm not scared, so that's good, right?"

Big blue eyes peered into keen green ones, and they stared at each other for a moment, considering.

"What do you mean?" Riku asked, not expecting any real clarification.

"I'm not scared of you."

The worlds carried the dull sting of a punch in the nose.

"You were scared of me?"

Sora grinned and inclined his head leisurely, pulling his arm off of his friend.

"Yeah. Well, no. Not of you. Of… of… y'know. The stuff I thought when I was with you."

Riku stopped walking.

"What?"

The brunette looked up at him, quirking up the corners of his mouth. His eyes were peaceful, intoxicated and intoxicating at once.

"Don't you know?"

Riku opened his mouth, but didn't speak. Sora stuck his tongue out, chuckled softly, and something shifted in his cloudy gaze.

"I love you, stupid," he said with a wink. One fleeting breath, then Riku found Sora's lips being pressed up against his, a clumsy hand grasping at his shoulder. Something in Riku's mind was screaming, but he returned the gesture, deepening the kiss despite all his inhibitions and better judgment. Somehow, he knew it was wrong. Some logical part of his brain was reminding him that Sora was very male and very drunk, but he found that he did not care. He had been stupid, after all, because he realized that he was in love indeed. It was sappy and cliché, and he couldn't get enough. He wrapped his arms around his friend's waist, and Sora felt so small against him. So small and beautiful and _perfect._

Riku felt the boy smiling ever so slightly against his mouth, and it was then that he knew what Sora meant about things tasting like home.

_

* * *

_

_Fin._


	2. Returning the Sentiment

**A/N:** So, originally, the first chapter of this was meant to be a stand-alone oneshot... but it seems a plot bunny by the name of Wingedchilde has been to visit me, and I couldn't turn an idea like that down, especially not when it matched up with another lyric from the same song.

_"Oh, I am not quite sleeping  
Oh, I am fast in bed"_

So, I did this chapter. And there will probably be another one involving Riku's disasterous attempts at making Sora feel better. Hehe.

I might doctor this one up later, but it's late, and I'm sleepy, and I like it now. Yay.

Fictionally yours,  
Kaci

_

* * *

Oh… son of a bitch._

That was Sora's first thought upon waking up the following morning as he yanked the blanket up over his head against the harsh oppression of the sunlight blazing though the thin curtains of the bedroom window. He briefly felt to make sure all his limbs were still intact, seeing as the steady pounding in his head clearly told him he had recently been struck by a semi-truck. Though fortunately all his extremities were present and accounted for, he did seem to be missing all of his clothing except for his paopu fruit patterned boxer shorts. That's never a good sign.

_Where the hell am I?_

He scratched his bare knee, and he felt the mattress beneath him give a little.

_Okay… a bed. And I can safely say it's one in Merlin's house. But how did I get here?_

He turned over slowly onto his other side, and something in him detected a curious warmth radiating from somewhere near him in the bed. He lowered the comforter bit by bit, opened one eye, then two…

_Oh. Oh. Ohhh. _

Reality slowly dawned on him as his blurred vision cleared, focusing on the form of a shapely bare back opposite him in the bed. Fair skin stretched across the steep curves of defined muscles that expanded and contracted with each slow, even breath. Sharp, masculine shoulders told Sora that his bedmate was male, and he gulped down a surge of hot _something_ at the sight of the sheet draped haphazardly over one of the boy's familiarly jaunty hips. He sighed and his body relaxed a bit when he spotted the waistband of the boy's boxers peeking out from beneath, but for some reason, he wasn't sure the action was one of relief. Despite his better judgement, he lowered the blanket farther from his eyes and inclined his head upward. Silvery-white hair fell gracefully and fanned out across the pillow, and just the smallest sliver of a chiseled jaw was visible from Sora's angle.

_Riku is half-naked. In my bed._

Beyond the bed, he saw his clothes and Riku's mingled together in a pile on the floor

_What the hell did I DO last night?_

Trying with all his might to resist his jump-out-of-bed-scream-and-panic impulse, he thought hard, trying to remember the night before.

Aha.

Mostly it was clear up until right about…

_Oh God. Ohhhhh God. Did I actually say that? Oh no. Ohhh. I told him._

Sora sat up swiftly, but quickly found himself plummeting back onto his pillow in response to a nasty throb in his brain region. Apparently the movement and responsive moan was enough to wake Riku, because he soon began stirring. Sora froze and found himself hoping that maybe if he stayed perfectly still Riku would go back to sleep. He was not prepared for relationship reevaluation, not at this ungodly hour of the morning.

Nope, too late. The older boy was already rolling over onto his back and yawning widely, and Sora was too preoccupied with mentally recording how _goddamn cute_ he was when he yawned that he forgot to pretend to be asleep when Riku rolled onto his other side to face him.

"Morning, sunshine." Riku's eyes were sleepy, but his grin was wide.

At a momentary loss for words, Sora only managed a sort of small squeal that was mostly stifled by the blanket still covering his mouth. He disappeared under the bedspread for the smallest moment, gathered himself, and when he emerged he was lying on his back with the blanket loosely at his waist. Suddenly, he was very awake.

"Um."

Riku cleared his throat almost expectantly. He had figured Sora would have one hell of a hangover, and he knew it was his responsibility to take care of the boy. But Riku was most certainly_ not_ the nurturing type, and he grew uneasy as visions of hot soup and painkillers danced in his head. He thought of breakfast in bed and the time he had almost burned his house down due to a freak toaster accident (Honestly, how was he supposed to know that you're not supposed to put pancake batter in there? He happened to like his pancakes toasty, thank you very much.), and he hoped to God that perhaps his friend would be content to just lie there for a while.

"What… how exactly did we end up… here?" Sora asked the ceiling, because it was much easier and less intimidating. Probably because he had never woken up in his underwear in bed with ceiling tile. Though, at this rate, it didn't seem entirely too unlikely. _That_ particular mental image was a strange one, and he forced it away before it distracted him.

"You passed out," Riku told him with a little twinkle of fondness in his eye, groaning a little as he pulled himself up to lean against the headboard, "somewhere around the marketplace. I carried you the rest of the way here, and there was only this bed left… so I just sort of, you know, undressed you and tucked you in and so on."

"So… we didn't…?" Sora didn't really have to finish his question. He sat up as well, and tried not to look at the older boy's defined chest more than was normal.

"No. Definitely not. This is a Fondle-Free Zone." Riku pointed between them, then gestured emphatically to the space all around them. Then he turned to face Sora with a sly smirk. "You just can't hold your alcohol, that's all. Pansy."

Under normal circumstances, Sora would have retaliated, but his present situation was a far cry from normal, and he was far too busy trying to bully his mind out of conjuring up images of Riku undressing him to manage anything more than an absent "Oh."

Riku apparently sensed his distress, because he reached out and put his hand on top of Sora's, who almost flinched, more from nerves than from anything else.

"Do you remember anything?" Riku's eyes were uncertain.

"Yeah. Well, some. Just up to the part where I… where I… well, you know…"

"Where you told me you loved me?"

Sora winced. "Yeah. That part. And um… about that…"

"Sora."

But Sora was not to be stopped, and he continued to speak, words now spilling out at remarkable speeds, rambling as few have ever rambled before.

"Look, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything or that was really weird for you to hear from me, and I really didn't mean to tell you, not like that at least – "

"Sora."

" – and I never wanted to make things weird between us, that's the last thing I ever wanted to do, and it's really stupid that I went and ruined everything, really, I'm an idiot – "

"Sora."

" – so maybe we could just, like, you know, forget any of this ever happened, forget I ever opened my big stupid mouth and said anything, and then maybe we could just go back to being just plain-old normal non-homosexual friends like we were before, except we weren't really, not really ever, but that's not the point, the point is - "

But the world may never know what Sora's point really was, because Riku chose that precise moment to direct the brunette's full attention towards him with a gentle hand on either side of his face and capture Sora's lips in his. A small moan escaped the smaller boy, and Riku took advantage of the boy's already open mouth, lingering there and making the kiss deep enough to prove his point but short enough for him to be able to make himself pull away (though that would prove to be difficult with those stupid warm shivers that he got when Sora lifted his chin and moved his fingers almost tantalizingly over his chest). With a tiny wet noise of reluctance he withdrew his lips, and Sora stared at him, catching his breath.

"You forgot the part where I returned the sentiment."

_

* * *

Fin._


	3. Quite the Domestic Goddess

**A/N: **Okay, this is the final installment of this fic, my dears! Thanks so much for all your support, I hope it's a suitable ending. Also, I seem to have some sort of fetish with embarassing underpants, so just bear with me.

I didn't base this one on a particular lyric, so here's one from the same song that fits well enough, just to keep with it.

_"Trusting things beyond mistake.  
Hallelujah.  
We were in love. We were in love."_

Also, there's a Panic! At the Disco quote in here that was halfway accidental. Just so you know.

Fictionally yours,  
Kaci

* * *

You could never tell from the cramped disarray of the main room, but Merlin's house was actually very roomy. If you could manage to find the door to the right corridor, you'd end up in a labyrinth of tall doors and wide hallways, libraries and sitting rooms and even a ballroom. The only slight problem was a shortage of bedrooms, but that could usually be solved easily. In one of these bedrooms lay Sora, head pounding and stomach growling, alone in bed because Riku had insisted that he stay there while he made breakfast because "that's what you do for someone you love. You take care of them." It was proving difficult, however, for Sora to resist following the boy, and great deal of shatters and crashes from the kitchen later, Sora drug himself out of bed and made his quiet way into the kitchen.

He was met with the sight of Riku's svelte hindquarters thrust up in the air (though he was now clothed in a pair of pants and an undershirt, which Sora thought was a terrible shame) as he dug deep into the annals of a cavernous cabinet below the stove, clattering around and presumably searching for another pan. The counter next to the stove was strewn with eggshells, dry pancake mix, and measuring cups. There was a bowl of pancake batter and a wooden spoon situated next to a half-full bottle of vegetable oil that lay on its side, its contents spilled out over the polished surface and dripping down to the stone floor. A few pots and pans were scattered about the countertop and floor, and various cooking utensils were overflowing out of a number of open drawers, a few dangling haphazardly like ornaments. Pancake batter was splattered all over the floor by the stove where a skillet sat with raw pancakes bubbling away inside it, and tiny dollops of the substance that hadn't quite made it to the pan were emitting little streams of steam as they died a slow death.

"Aha!" came Riku's voice, triumphant and echoing off of the pots and pans. One of his hands emerged, placed a spatula next to the stove. There was a series of loud banging and clanging about as he tried to cram everything back into the cabinet, and on his third try he had managed to shut the doors.

"Quite the domestic goddess, aren't you?" Sora commented fondly. Riku spotted him finally and shook his head with one of the first sheepish smiles Sora had ever seen grace those smug lips. As if on cue, the cabinet doors burst open and heavy metal bowls, lids, dishes, pots, pans, and cauldrons came spewing and crashing out all over the floor and, more importantly, Riku's bare feet. A yell and a curse later, he was hopping around on one foot and angrily struggling to force everything back once more. Sora moved forward to help, but Riku waved him away, part out of pride and part out of concern for the younger boy's well-being. So he watched, rather entertained, as Riku finally slammed the doors shut, stripped off his belt (soliciting an "Oh my…" from Sora), and fastened it securely around the door handles.

He straightened up once more, sweeping the silver hair out of his eyes and adjusting himself in a smooth maneuver that inexplicably made Sora want to jump him right then and there.

"You okay, Riku?"

He looked desperate. "I made coffee," he offered, pointing helpfully to the steadily dripping (or was it leaking?) coffeemaker.

Sora scrunched up his nose. "I hate coffee. With a deep, fiery passion."

Riku looked at him in what he hoped was a threatening way, choosing to ignore the way Sora's nose twitched when he sniffed the brew with distaste and how adorable it may have been. "Ohhh, no. It took me twenty minutes to figure out how to operate that piece of shit, so you're going to drink the coffee and you're going to damn well like it." With one swift movement of the hand not holding the spatula, Riku grabbed a coffee mug from a nearby shelf and pressed it into Sora's hands.

"Well." Sora grimaced and picked up the coffee pot, then poured some of the strangely thick concoction into his mug. There were a few foreign objects that looked suspiciously like little bits of coffee filter swimming around in there. He cringed, but took the cup nonetheless. He wasn't one to be pushed around, but he decided to humor the older boy. After all, he was working so hard. "I guess we see who wears the pants in this relationship."

And with that he moved his boxer-clad self over to the empty space behind Riku and in front of the pantry. Primarily, this was so he could make noisy slurping noises so that the silver-haired boy would think he was actually _drinking _that putrid elixir, but now that he was there, he saw it as an opportunity to partake in one of his favorite pastimes: Riku Poking.

_Bwahaha._

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Riku shuddered as he struggled to flip a pancake that was sticking stubbornly to the bottom of the pan.

Poke.

"We have frozen waffles, you know."

Poke.

"Yes, but toasters and I don't go well together, remember?"

Poke.

"Oh, right."

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

"Sora…"

Poke.

"Yes?"

Poke.

"Do you have a death wish?"

Poke.

"Not particularly."

Poke.

"Oh, but I think you do."

Poke.

(It's annoying, isn't it?)

Poke.

Poke.

Riku shot a glare over his shoulder, and Sora somehow managed to catch it, twist it into one outstanding puppy-dog pout, and throw it back at an unsuspecting Riku.

"Ah." Riku turned back to his pancakes – Sora's pancakes – and tried to stave off his sudden rush of affection for Sora, because he knew that was exactly what the boy wanted. The poking recommenced. "I get it. You're cute. But I swear to God, if you don't stop poking me immediately…"

"You'll what?" Poke, poke, poke.

That was it. Two could play at that game, and Riku knew how to get what he wanted too.

He set his spatula down next to the stove; then, with the agility of a carefully choreographed martial arts move, he whipped around, seized Sora mid-poke, and pushed him by the upper arms against the pantry door behind him. Lukewarm coffee and flecks of porcelain went flying in all directions as Sora's mug smashed against the stone kitchen floor, but neither of them seemed to notice or care. Riku was leaning in, closing the distance between their faces slowly but surely.

"You've got pancake batter in your eyelashes," said a bemused Sora, whose hangover seemed to be long forgotten. He could feel Riku's sharp hips pinning his against the pantry.

Riku counted the freckles on Sora's nose. Seven. "I'm going to kiss you now, if you don't mind."

Sora's eyes were half-closed, but never before had they been so blue. He felt the older boy's hot breath on his lips. "Please. Be my guest."

And kiss he did, like it was going out of style, like it was all that ever mattered – and to him, it was. His lips were warm and gently dominant, and Sora could feel him mouth the words "You bastard" into his own lips when the boy didn't taste the coffee in his mouth. He lifted his chin and ran his fingertips over the cotton of Riku's undershirt, right below his collarbone, and he sensed that responsive warm shiver. _Ha. _Honestly, the boy was so easy to turn on once you found the switch. Riku's hands had moved from Sora's arms to his bare hips, and soon one was snaking around to the small of his back while the other traced a teasing path over his unclothed ribs as their mouths clashed. Though Sora was being held tightly by Riku and pressed firmly against the wooden door, he couldn't help his strange spreading sensation of freedom. This was right. This was it, was all he'd ever need: to have those hands to hold and those lips to drink and those eyes to blaze with passion for him and him alone, like they were the only ones that really, truly existed when they had each other. For how could anyone else ever feel this complete?

But alas, they weren't the only ones in existence. Not for long, at least.

"Your pancakes are burning."

There were two identical gasps and a tiny _smack_ and the kiss was over. Riku jumped back, and they caught sight of Tifa through a cloud of acrid smoke. She was turning off the stove with a look of passive amusement, despite – or perhaps because of – having just witnessed Riku ravishing Sora against a pantry door. Riku shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt at nonchalance. Sora looked around frantically before snatching a cookie sheet off of a nearby countertop and covering his bare chest with it.

"Tifa!" Sora's voice was a squeak.

"What?" she looked up at him serenely, picking up the pan and putting it in the sink. "Am I supposed to be surprised?"

Riku concealed a grin as he glanced at Sora's bright red face and was about to speak, but stopped short at the sound of bare feet padding into the room. Moments later, a head of remarkably unruly hair announced Cloud's arrival. He had his eyes shut while yawning, and when opened them he stopped in his tracks. Apparently, he hadn't been counting on anyone being in the kitchen to see him, because he was still wearing his pajamas – more specifically, a blue sleeveless undershirt that clashed terribly with his boxer shorts, which upon closer inspection were adorned with little figures that bared an uncanny resemblance to… yes, those we definitely fuzzy pink bunnies.

Long awkward pause…

"What?" Cloud said defensively to the way Tifa and Riku were looking at him. Sora on the other hand was too busy looking scandalized, and besides, he didn't have much room to talk about embarrassing underpants. "Haven't you ever seen bunnies before?"

"Yeah, but not on a grown man's ass," Riku remarked. Tifa smiled, no teeth. Cloud shot Riku a look of annoyance and fell in with Tifa, taking the spatula and helping her scrape the charred remains of the pancakes out of the bottom of the pan. She stooped and began carefully picking up shards of the coffee mug.

"What happened in here?" Cloud asked, his voice once again monotone.

"Riku and Sora were making out," Tifa replied casually. His head snapped up, and he looked up at Tifa, then over to Riku and the half-naked Sora with an expression of mild disturbance, then merely shrugged and went back to the pan.

With a blink and a quick look around, Sora took a breath and two cautious steps towards the door, hoping that somehow he could make a break for it. Riku must have sensed it though, for without even turning around he caught Sora by the wrist and pulled the smaller boy up beside him, murmuring out of the corner of his mouth "Oh, no you don't. We're in this together." It was spoken too quietly for Sora to distinguish whether his tone was intended to be threatening or comforting, which he thought was very much like their relationship in a nutshell.

"Good morning!" came an exceptionally perky voice from around the corner, and no one even had to look to see who was coming in.

_Brilliant, let's just have a party! Everyone come join the awkward silence! _Riku thought to himself.

"Hi, Yuffie," they said in a monotone chorus.

She came to a halt staring at Cloud's bunny boxers, giggling. Cloud looked about as highly irritated as his personality would allow, which wasn't much, and maneuvered his lower half behind the counter. "They made out!" he said quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at Riku and Sora. He had always been good at diversions. Riku, maintaining a tight grip on Sora's hand, rolled his eyes and groaned. Yuffie looked at Riku, then Sora, then their clasped hands, then back at Cloud.

"Well, it's about time," said a low voice that most certainly did not belong to Yuffie. No one had noticed when Leon had come slinking silently in and slip between Cloud and Yuffie, who was now mopping up pancake batter. (Riku muttered something to the effect of "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?") He ogled a now extremely aggravated Cloud, taking in his cutesy boxer shorts with a derisive snort.

"One word," Cloud growled, brandishing the spatula at Leon. "One word about the bunnies and I will not hesitate to castrate you with this spatula."

"Touchy, touchy," he replied coolly, nudging Cloud's cooking instrument aside. Rather than making himself useful in the clean-up effort, he leaned casually on the countertop. "So did the two lovebirds wreak this havoc?"

"Surprised?" Cloud quipped.

"Hardly."

"Oh, come on!" Sora said, finally breaking his silence and dropping his cookie sheet with a clatter. "Why isn't anyone shocked about this? Is there just something about us that screams 'flaming homosexuals?'?"

"Actually…"

"Don't answer that."

* * *

_Fin... for real this time._

P.S. For those of you who care, there's info about my next Riku/Sora project in my profile. Woo!


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